


A Lucky Guy

by JulieJewels



Series: About Peter Parker [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Pepper Potts, Gen, POV Outsider, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Stark Tower, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieJewels/pseuds/JulieJewels
Summary: It should go without saying that Flash Thompson hates detention. But there's detention and then there's detention with only Penis Parker for company, which is way worse. Detention where buildings explode and Puny ends up saving the day?? Off the charts. But, like, in a bad way. You know?





	1. Boom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Okay, so here we go. This is my first take on Spider-Man and my first fanfiction on AO3 in general. So, wish me luck! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy, because I certainly did.
> 
> By the way, I have this thing finished and kind of ready to go, so I'm going to be posting one chapter per day.

Flash tipped his chair back a little farther.

And a _liiiittle_ more.

It creaked. There. He’d found the magic spot. He let go of the desk in front of him, slow and deliberate. His arms hovered in the air, ready to steady him if he started falling, but the need never arose. After an eventless moment or two, he carefully lifted his hands higher and higher until they were raised above his head.

He shifted left and right, his butt working, and with the focus of a bull storming the red cape, he managed to balance his weight on just two legs of the chair instead of four.

Another win for him.

He let the chair fall back down with a _thunk_ and glanced up at the clock, ignoring Mr. Harrington’s heated glare. _An hour left_. He huffed. How could time drag this slowly?

It had to be the company.

He was alone in the room with Mister Harrington and Puny Parker. Not one of his better moments, he had to admit. But it was what it was. Detention was impossible to get out of _._ God knew he’d tried, and failed – quite gracefully, though, because he’d got Puny in here with him, which counted for something in his book.

Except Puny was scribbling in his notebook, twirling his pen over the page like a maniac, and he looked for all the world like a happy kitten. Flash would have taken a closer look at what had grasped the nerd’s attention so thoroughly, but what if …

You know.

_Hedidn’tgetit?_

His chest tightened and he turned away from Puny’s secret notebook and the secret sketch he was drawing and the secret, complicated-looking equations. He didn’t need that stuff, anyway. He had other talents. Like, not being a complete nerd.

He puffed out his cheeks and let the air escape in a huff.

_Fifty-eight minutes to go._

This settled it, then. As far as detentions went, this had to be one of his worst. And, for once, it wasn’t even entirely Puny’s fault.

Flash was missing Decathlon practice for this.

The school was almost abandoned by now, it was so late.

Plus, he’d heard that the cheerleaders were having their dress rehearsal for Saturday’s game.

So. Many things he could have been doing instead of … this. Fighting against gravity (a fight he was _dominating_ , by the way) with a chair as his only accomplice.

He sighed.

Let his hands sink back down, braced them against the edge of his desk and tipped his chair back. Mr. Harrington flashed him another exasperated look, but he ignored this one too, the same way he had ignored the last twenty-seven.

Puny’s head shot up. It should have been his first warning, but even so, there was not much time to react. A second later the building shook. And Flash was sprawled on the floor sooner than he could have finished his thought.

Or started it, for that matter.

It was because of that that he was completely clueless when he fought his way into a sitting position. His mind as blank as a wall – if the wall happened to be white and unadorned, of course. He rubbed his brow. A spot ached like crazy – probably where he had hit the ground. Unimportant though it seemed, the first thing he noticed was Mr. Harrington still sitting behind his desk, looking distinctly nervous.

Peter was already in front of the only window in the classroom.

Flash could not have that. Puny was not supposed to be the one to keep his balance when Flash could not. He was not supposed to come in first … _anywhere_ except at a Decathlon competition. So he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be standing tall in front of the window when Flash was cowering on the floor.

He was at the nerd’s side in seconds.

He wanted to say something along the lines of, “Whatcha doing, Penis?” but his words got stuck in his throat. At about that time, things slowly started to register. Like, _really_ register. As in, _oh my God, something’s happening._ He stared out the window, feeling his heart beat in his tiny chest.

A house on the other side of the street was _on fire_. Flames ate away at its roof, its upper floors. People poured out through the entrance a few meters farther down, screaming and panicking. Numbly, Flash wondered what might have happened, and as if on cue, a plane-like thing shot over the sky and dropped a fiery ball onto another building. Right before their eyes. The ground shook upon impact and the structure exploded in yellow light.

Two torches. Burning bright just metres away from him.

Peter turned to him and Mr. Harrington – who was _still_ sitting behind his desk –, pulling his phone from a pocket of his hoodie. “Does anyone have a signal?” the boy asked in an urgent tone that, somehow, crawled under Flash’s skin and prompted him to find his own phone.

He fished the device out of his pants. In the meanwhile, one of the buildings on the other side of the road had had enough. It crumbled in on itself, meeting the ground with a booming _drrruuuuuumm._ The floor shook ominously and Flash could not help but shoot out a hand, steadying himself against the nearest table.

People screamed in the streets. Ran.

He tried to ignore it as he swiped his sweaty finger over the black screen of his phone. He did not know the people down there. Their fate was none of his concern. He pushed the button, once, twice, and still, nothing happened. His phone stayed silent and cold in his hand.

“Who do you want to call, your Auntie?” he teased – sometimes he couldn’t help himself – and his voice did _not_ shake. He did _not_ need to clear his throat after because of a huge lump that had hunkered down there and decided to stay. His finger became more frantic, however. No use denying that. Another push of the button. And another. He gave the device a shake. That could help, right? Wrong. He shook his head in disbelief. It was impossible. His phone was brand new and he’d charged it during Math, which was just a few hours ago. It couldn’t have died already. Not with the brand-new battery and the …

“No,” Mr. Harrington’s voice rang out from his spot behind the desk. When was the man going to get up and _do_ something?

“Same here,” Flash muttered.

This seemed to be the last straw for Peter – Puny, he meant _Puny._ Not the burning building that had _collapsed_ in on itself. Nor the one that was quickly following in its neighbour’s footsteps. No, it was the fact that they could not _call_ anyone.

Flash giggled.

Though, when he thought about it, it kind of made sense.

No calling meant no help, which meant they were on their own.

“Something’s going on here,” Puny muttered quietly, ignoring Flash’s (hysterical) laughter and turning to the door. “Phones don’t just die all of a sudden. A jammer? A powerful one? Which doesn’t explain why they’re dead …”

Right. That, too.

Flash had thought of that.

Seriously, this was _weird._

“We have to get out of here,” Pet—Puny declared right as another fiery ball flew through the sky and hit a building a few blocks away. Flash could only imagine the destruction left behind as the ground rumbled anew and a cloud of smoke exploded behind rows of buildings.

“ _Out of here_?” he protested, his lungs constricting in a way they probably weren’t supposed to. He could still speak, though. More like scream, but he could form words. It was fine. “ _Are you completely nuts, Penis? There are buildings collapsing outside!”_

“Do you want to be here when it happens to this one?” Peter challenged gruffly, already pulling open the door, his bag slung hastily over his shoulder. Flash looked at Mr. Harrington. The man who was _supposed_ to say something. They shared a glance. Mr. Harrington seemed just as lost as him. He shrugged uselessly, then finally got up from his chair and followed Penis out of the room.

Now it was just him.

Hell, no.

He caught up to the pair in the hallway outside of their classroom. A curious smell lay heavy in the air – he supposed it was smoke. It scratched his nose raw somewhere deep behind his eyes.

If he’d had the time, he might have sneezed.

The ground rumbled _again._

But Peter wasn’t leading them towards the exit. _What the hell?_ No, instead he was creeping deeper into the building and it took Flash a moment to understand what he was planning to do.

Oh.

Of _course_ Puny would go look for the other people who were still at school at this hour. The Decathlon team. The cheerleaders. Maybe a few teachers that had pulled a few extra hours. Never mind that he was putting Flash’s and Mr. Harrington’s life in danger by lingering here, at the heart of the attack.

The nerve of him.

Still, Flash followed his classmate down the corridor and around the corner, just because … well … Penis seemed to halfway know what he was doing. At least better than Mr. Harrington, who was crouched low over the ground and sticking to Parker’s side just as much as Flash was. Seriously, who was the adult here? If Flash hadn’t known any better –

Another fireball had to have struck somewhere in their vicinity, because the tiles under his feet cracked and the whole school creaked like an old shack. A cold shudder ran down his back as he suppressed his urge to scream and run back the way they’d come.

But somehow, in the chaos, Parker had managed to lead them exactly where they needed to be. He motioned for Flash to take the gym, where the cheerleaders were practicing, and told Mr. Harrington to round up the teachers, if there were any still there. “We meet back here,” he whispered over the groan and rumble of the streets outside before he was off to the library for the Decathlon team.

The plan was simple.

But Flash’s part in it wasn’t.

It _wasn’t._

It was just like Penis to pawn the lion’s share of the work off on someone else, Flash thought as he slowly, hesitantly rounded the corner. He stopped, thought for two seconds and, finally, leaped into a run, sprinting straight for the gym. He wanted to get out of here, like, _now._ No idea why he was following Puny’s orders, but …

They were _cheerleaders._

And of course Peter would opt to help his stupid nerdy Decathlon friends over them.

So Flash had to step up. Like he had to step up at home when his Dad was passed out on the couch after one too many glasses of something hidden in the cabinet over the sink, and his Mom was crying silently into her hands.

He was no stranger to handling things on his own.

He could do this.

That was his mindset as he burst into the gym, expecting chaos. What he found was deadly quiet. Had he been blind, he would have turned around and sprinted back the way he’d come, but since he had two wholly functioning eyes, he could see the cheerleaders huddled against a window at the back of the room, their eyes trained on the streets beyond the glass. They did not make a single sound as they stared and watched in horror.

The view here was different, Flash realized as he drew closer. The buildings he could see were not the same ones he had watched from the classroom upstairs, but they were still burning and crumbling and hell, if there was anything left of this part of the city by tomorrow, he was going to be impressed.

He needed a moment to get his bearings.

Maybe a little longer. Sue him, he didn’t care.

Then he was on top of it.

“Hey, guys? We have to go,” he said into the silence. His voice echoed, even through the rumble outside, but no one seemed to hear him. Not a single pair of eyes turned to acknowledge his presence.

He cleared his throat.

Had he even said anything at all?

Judging by the people around him, he might as well have declared he was in love with Penis and he would have still received pretty much the same reaction. They didn’t care.

_At all._

It was a sobering realization.

He struggled to keep his wits about him, but they had started slipping away right between his fingers. It was hard to focus, considering the fire and the dead phones and the _brooommm_ outside. But he cleared his throat again, chipping away at the lump, then screamed with as much authority as he could muster.

“Everyone, follow me!”

The cheerleaders, once they had heard him, appeared happy enough to follow _someone_ ’s orders. They hurried away from the window, seemingly reanimated, and gathered around Flash in a loose circle. Staring up at him, silently waiting for him to tell them what to do.

Now, what?

He did not say anything else, opting instead to turn the other way and run out of the room. He was not sure how much the lump would allow him to get out anyway and the last thing he needed was for the cheerleaders to hear his voice crack. Puny had been bad enough, witnessing his breakdown back in the classroom, but the nerd had (kindly) ignored all of his hysterics. The cheerleaders were, under normal circumstances, not so forgiving.

He could only imagine how they would react if the person leading them to supposed safety croaked like a freaking teenager whose voice hadn’t broken yet.

He ran on and on, listening to the steps behind him and trying to navigate the corridors even through the haze in his head and the rising tightness in his chest.

He was panting by the time he arrived back at the spot Penis had pronounced their meeting place.

Mr. Harrington was already there, Mrs. Warren standing by his side.

Peter was nowhere to be seen.

“He hasn’t come back yet?” Flash said breathlessly, noting with a modicum of shame that sweat had broken out on his forehead. The shame, however, was quickly swallowed by other things that would probably seem only mildly concerning later but were all but overwhelming at the moment, especially in the face of another explosion that made the ground shake.

Mr. Harrington shook his head, pressing a steadying hand against the wall to his right. “Did you get everyone?” he asked, eying the cheerleaders crowding behind his student. There were nine of them. A number Flash was bound to remember for a while to come.

“Think so,” he said. His eyes roamed over the corridor behind Mr. Harrington, willing for a familiar scrawny form to appear. They had to get out of there _now._

So why were they still waiting?

Flash wasn’t sure.

But they waited all the same.


	2. Say What Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day gets weirder. Flash has to pinch himself. Also, Puny seems to have been telling the truth about that internship thing? But yeah, not one of his bigger worries.

It didn’t take long – though every second seemed like an hour to Flash’s antsy mind. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, once, twice, and then he heard something. Like, talking. But not quite.

 _Laughing_?

The sound seemed as misplaced there as a cactus would have at a balloon party.

And then Parker was storming around the corner, immediately followed by Ned and Michelle. Still hot on his heels were Cindy, Abe, Charles and Sally. That should be all of them, Flash thought with a wave of relief.

Then he noticed the cat.

It was resting in Peter’s arms, its claws digging deep into his hoodie as it held on for dear life. It was a white animal with dark spots around the eyes and it looked bewildered, to say the least.

It also looked very, very out of place.

“Everyone all right?” Peter called. A smile was still tugging at the corners of his lips, but his eyes were serious as ever. Ned behind him was snickering, though, and Michelle was her expressionless self.

Curious.

Not as curious as the cat, but still curious.

Mr. Harrington finally rose up to the occasion. It had taken a while, but Flash had a feeling the teacher would do anything in his power to keep everyone safe now. “Yes,” he said, then gestured hurriedly to the animal in Parker’s arms. “What is this?”

“It’s a cat.” And Flash would have appreciated the sarcasm, he would have, just not at that specific moment in time. For obvious reasons – though, apparently not obvious enough, because Parker seemed unconcerned by his heated glares. The nerd was just about to head off, cat and all, when he caught Mr. Harrington’s gaze and sighed, nodding his understanding. He started walking, which prompted the whole group to do the same. His words were hurried, urging, as if he were really anxious to finally get out of there. Which was one of the first things that sounded about right to Flash.  “We found it in one of the classrooms. Must have wandered in through an open window or something. But getting it out took some … skill.” Done with his explanation, Puny immediately picked up his pace. His eyes traveled over to Ned for the tiniest of seconds, but no words followed and Flash couldn’t agree more. The cat had stolen enough of their time.

Speaking of.

Why _in the name of everything that is sacred_ would anyone stop to rescue a _cat_ when there were so many _people_ in danger?

He didn’t have the time to think about it or to get all riled up because Parker was already at the door and Flash’s new sole purpose was getting out as well. The others all followed in Puny’s wake and no one said a word about it. It was an odd sensation, no one questioning Peter’s authority. On any normal day, they would have, but nothing about this was particularly normal, so Flash was not going to complain. Not about this, anyway. Especially with the stress of leading a bunch of cheerleaders through a groaning school still fresh in his blood.

In a flash, they were outside. Peter had already carefully set the cat down and was a few paces ahead of them all, but he threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were all still there. Smoke bit into their eyes as they left the safe embrace of stony walls and tight windows for a much more chaotic setting. Sensations exploded in their noses and throats and ears and minds with the force of a hundred trucks. Flash would have hunched over and hacked up a lung, but he was not about to be left behind, so he swallowed it all down, the dust and the scratch and the cough, and he continued, keeping up with the whole group.

Peter set a steady pace.

He had never thought of the scrawny nerd as athletic, but there was no better word to describe him now. Parker dodged flames and people, dashing left or right when necessary, never slowing down. Flash himself felt the strain on his muscles as he tried to keep up; he felt the breath in his scratchy lungs, felt the sweat rolling down his back in beads. His face was hot and red, a _thump thump thump_ pounding somewhere in his head.

He no longer felt his heart. It was for the best this way, he supposed.

Peter, on the other hand, did not seem to struggle all that much. In fact, he even snaked an arm under Ned’s elbow and pulled him on when the plumper boy seemed to be running a little short of breath.

Fires burned bright around them.

People screamed, running with them or against them.

Buildings collapsed, rumbling into ruin, but Flash had stopped hearing all of it. It no longer shocked him when the ground shook with another explosion. Unless a thing was blocking his path – or his view of Peter –, it was none of his concern.

Eventually, Peter let go of Ned. _Finally growing tired?_ Flash thought with an odd sense of satisfaction. But no. _No._ Instead of running on, Peter swerved to the right, out of Flash’s sight. Before Flash could panic, however, the smaller teen had reappeared, carrying what looked to be an injured woman on his shoulders.

And he was still running.

 _After this_ , Flash thought despite himself, _I will have to reconsider a few things_.

Not about Penis Parker. Just … in general.

Flash would have been embarrassed about the time it took him to realize where they were headed, but in the face of … _everything,_ being cool and seeming smart had slid to the far back of his priority list. Even so, even through the chaos and the commotion around him, the tower that suddenly solidified in front of them took the little breath he had fought for so hard away from him in less than a second.

Peter had led them to _Stark Tower_?

What _in the world?_

But Parker never stopped, and so he didn’t either. He followed his classmates through the doors into a huge lobby.

People were already milling around. Some of them were clearly employees, but there were others there, too. People like Flash and the rest of his class. Just looking for shelter in a world falling apart.

They were arguing with the receptionists. Or just standing around, looking at nothing. Some angry, others seeming as apathetic as broken toys.

Flash felt a chill, even though he was drowning in his own sweat.

Peter took in all the people with a single glance, then strode forward, looking determined. Flash stayed close on his heels, still scared of getting left behind somewhere, somehow. They did not get very far, however. To their right, a sea of baffle gates blocked their way as far as the eye could see – there had to be about thirty of them, definitely more than Flash had ever seen lined up in one place. And then there was a tall glass door that reached all the way up to the ceiling to their left.

Peter strode right to the door, shifting the woman he still carried on his shoulders so he had a better hold of her. Beneath her was his schoolbag, hanging loosely off his back.

It looked too normal, even covered in soot the way it was. Too trivial somehow. Flash could not stand to look at it.

Disregarding that, though, he couldn’t help but notice that Peter was _strong._

Interesting.

“Friday, let us in,” Peter said to the air. He proceeded to look up at the ceiling, as if that was where he expected an answer to come from, and Flash was about to plop down and give up. Nope, that was it. One of them was crazy and Flash didn’t know who of them he wanted it to be. He only had the time to pinch himself, however – and to feel the very _real_ pain prickle up his arm – before a voice _answered._

Now he was ready to wake up.

He really, really was.

“Of course, Peter. Gate one is ready for you. Shall I alert –“

“No, Friday, I want you to open the door and let us _all_ in.”

A pause. “There are fifty-one individuals in the room who do not have a badge or a pass, Peter. They are not to be let –“

“Override,” Parker yelled, his hands shifting the woman on his shoulders again. He looked a little red in the face, yes, but his words, when they came out, were not breathless.

Flash did not even know where to find enough air to _speak._

How was Peter not out of breath?

Where was the freaking _hidden camera_?

“No badge, no access –“ the bodiless voice said, but Peter interrupted her again.

“Override, Alpha Ten Security Level. _Override!_ ”

And Flash would have stared if he hadn’t already been doing that or if the words had fully registered, but he was still kind of stuck on the voice and everything else …

“There is a No-Override Policy in plac–“

“Override that, too,” Parker exclaimed, slowly but surely losing his nerve. Then he sighed, looked down. “ _Please_ , Friday,” he begged. Something about that struck Flash as strange, but he was not going to interrupt. No, he was perfectly happy trying to catch his breath and regain some of his composure, standing in the safest building the city had to offer.

When Stark Tower fell, the world around it would have already crumbled to pieces. Flash was pretty sure about that. And thus, pretty content to be right where he was.

Even if _Penis_ of all people had got him there.

He didn’t care.

“This is an _emergency,_ ” Peter continued and there was a longer pause this time, as if whoever was on the other side of that voice was considering.

“Very well,” came the eventual reply. And the glass door popped open. Peter rushed to it before the woman had finished speaking. “Boss has been notified of your arrival. He is waiting for you in his lab. He says to hurry.”

“Thanks Fri!” Peter called, waving them through the door and somehow still keeping his balance as well as preventing the unconscious woman from slipping off his shoulders. When all of his schoolmates were inside, Peter’s gaze shifted to the people standing about, arguing with the staff or simply staring into nothingness. “Hurry!” he shouted.

If the lady from the ceiling was to be believed, a few seconds later, Peter plus fifty-one people without badges were hurrying down a hallway. There were children. Women. Men. Everything you could think of. And they all followed a boy most of them didn’t even know.

Flash felt a little sick and he didn’t know why.

They passed doors and rooms and at some point, Peter vanished inside something that could have been an infirmary, reappearing seconds later without the injured woman on his back. He was mumbling to himself, thinking about something or cursing or whatever – though, on second thought, he probably wasn’t cursing because this was still _Peter_ he was thinking about.

They rushed a little farther into the building before a dark-haired man came running the other way, looking intently at his StarkPad. There was an urgency to his step, but nothing else betrayed any kind of anxiety.

Peter seemed instantly relieved. “Frank!” he called, steering toward the man. Frank looked up, startled, but when he saw Parker, his expression softened. Then it turned on all of them and it was right back to troubled in a matter of moments.

“Parker, what the _hell_?”

“No time to explain,” Peter babbled, waving his hands and looking at the man with wild eyes. “Mr. Stark is waiting for me and could you … could please take care of them? You could take them to the conference room? Keep an eye on them for a little while?”

“Why _me_?” Frank was immediately on the defensive, not sparing the group of mismatched people another glance.

“I would ask Friday, but last time she watched someone, it didn’t go well,” Peter said and pleaded with those huge eyes of his.

Frank grunted. “Good to know I’m not expendable …” He bit his lip, his nostrils flaring as he thought. Peter’s fists were balled in expectation, his legs ready to bolt at any moment.

“ _Fine_!” Frank exclaimed finally. He lifted a finger and shook it in front of Peter’s face. “But only because I owe you one.” He glanced at the children, teenagers, teachers, mothers, fathers, and pulled a face. “And because after this, _you_ ’ll owe _me_ one. This _has_ to count double.”

“Thanks Frank!” Peter called over his shoulder, already sprinting away. Where he took the energy from, Flash had no idea. Fact was that a fraction of a second later, there was nothing left of the nerd at all.

The silence echoed off the barren walls. Frank huffed and turned off his StarkPad, tucking it under his arm.

“Follow me,” he said, sounding awfully resigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I love you!


	3. No, no, seriously. Stop. Okay, now back up. What did you say?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank the intern gives the students of Midtown High School a few things to mull over. Flash is not impressed, to say the least.

Frank ushered them into what was essentially a huge room with an enormous wooden table in the center. The table was oval and there had to be fifty chairs arranged around it, maybe more. Frank motioned them all to enter, then closed the door behind them.

It was deadly quiet. Which was weird, because Flash knew that the world outside was being ripped to pieces. It seemed odd – no, _wrong –_ to sit this still and silent – this _safe_ – when beyond those walls, an inferno of fire reigned.

He took a seat next to Cindy on the floor. Other kids from their school joined them – Abe and Sally and Charles and the cheerleaders. Ned and Michelle sat down last, Ned uncharacteristically quiet and Michelle uncharacteristically _present._ She wasn’t absorbed in one of her notebooks, and her face … was not _completely_ indifferent.

Interestingly enough, not a single person claimed any of the chairs. They all sat down on the ground, leaving the table abandoned. Which was weird. The seats looked comfy and should have beckoned. On any other day, they would have, Flash believed.

Now they just seemed cold and threatening. Like a luxury they had within arm’s reach but still weren’t allowed to touch.

Frank had no such reservations. After he locked the door – whether to keep them inside or other things out, Flash neither knew nor cared –, he let his eyes roam over all the little groups huddling on the floor. For one reason or another, he seemed satisfied as he plopped gracelessly down into the chair closest to the door and placed his legs on the expensive-looking table, clearly enjoying all the stares the brash action earned him.

He turned on his StarkPad again and went right back to his thing. His face was pale in the stark light of the device. His eyes twinkling lifelessly.

How could he be this _calm_?

Some of the little groups on the floor started quiet chats, but no one dared to make a sound louder than a bee’s buzz. The silence wrapped them all into a surreal state of timelessness. Nonexistence, almost. Flash felt like in another world, ripped away from everything he had ever known.

Eventually, after minutes or hours, Cindy got up. Abe followed her hesitantly as she walked over to Frank and took a seat next to him in a forsaken chair. She was obviously up to something, Flash could tell.

He thought for a few seconds. Considered the situation. Then decided. He couldn’t do much, but he could make the best of this.

He followed Cindy. Ned and Michelle were behind him. Then the cheerleaders.

For a short second, he found himself wondering if this was how Parker had felt, leading them all down streets and right to safety. He didn’t let himself linger on the thought, or on the mysterious question of where Parker had disappeared to.

Or why Stark would _wait_ for him.

Frank did not look up from his device as they all gathered around him. In fact, he gave no sign he had noticed them at all. His eyebrows twitched, but that could as well have been in reaction to something on the screen.

Mr. Harrington was suddenly there too, Mrs. Warren standing next to him. There was something soothing about familiar faces in times like these, Flash supposed. That was why nobody was sitting alone, yet at the same time nobody was trying to get acquainted with all the strangers in the room.

That was why it was so quiet.

“Mr. Frank?” Cindy called, her voice as shy as it ever got. It still carried through the room like a bell. Many of the hushed conversations quieted immediately.

Frank didn’t look up as he said, “It’s Mr. Lauren or just Frank. Don’t confuse the two.”

“Mr. Lauren,” Cindy repeated, not thrown off in the slightest. "Is there any way we could get a hold of our families?"

"Phones are still out," he said curtly. "The internet, too. So, no. Not at the moment."

It stung a little, the indifference in his voice. A murmur went through the room, a silent uproar of disappointment and frustration. But Cindy didn't seem to mind. At least not on the outside. Instead, she leaned forward, her face resting in the palms of her hands. “Who are you?”

“Intern,” was all the answer she got. It seemed enough for her.

“How do you know Peter?” was her next question. It shot out past her lips as if she’d been thinking about it for the past few hours. Flash wouldn’t have been surprised if she had.

Frank sighed dramatically, setting his StarkPad down slowly in a deliberate display of his utter irritation. He did not turn off the screen. An article about an arc reactor glowed in the semi-darkness of the room, stating blatantly that he was not going to engage in long conversations. That he had work to do.

“We work together sometimes,” he said blankly.

“So Peter actually _is_ an intern here?” Cindy continued, throwing Flash a quick glance.

“Yes. Why not?”

“He’s in high school.”

Frank nodded, only once. “I see why that would confuse you.” He shrugged. “He’s the youngest here. The rest of us are in college. No one’s bothered by that.”

Okay, okay. Flash couldn’t stand his own curiosity anymore. Seriously, it was _annoying_. He interrupted Cindy, who was about to move on to the next question, and let part of his frustration slip out with his words. “Why _not_?”

Besides, if he was stuck in here with fifty random people for company – nine of them cheerleaders, though, which had to count for _something_ –, he could at least use the time wisely. Find out something more about the mysterious Parker. Of all the things that had happened that day, the fact that the nerd actually had an internship here, against all odds, didn’t surprise him all that much.

Maybe he’d always known.

Still, there were _so many_ things left unanswered.

Frank shrugged anew. “He’s as good at what he does as any one of us. Probably better. And he likes to help. No one has much to say against that here.”

He was reaching for his StarkPad again, but Cindy’s voice made his hands pull back and his eyes roll.

“Where’s he now?”

Frank sighed. “He’s Mr. Stark’s personal intern. That means that whenever Mr. Stark goes out and does his thing, Parker goes with him.”

“To _fight_?” Flash exclaimed, confused confused _confused_. An internship at the hottest firm in the world was one thing. Hanging out with Mr. Stark and helping him _fight_ was something else entirely. A totally different concept. A hundred times less imaginable.

The cat in Peter’s arms seemed so much less ridiculous now, in the face of everything else.

Also, the woman thrown over his shoulders, the backpack, the agility – Flash didn’t know, but _something_ about it didn’t make sense. Or made _perfect_ sense, but he couldn’t figure it out. It tickled his mind, wouldn’t let go, but it wouldn’t reveal itself either.

It was goddamn infuriating.

Frank seemed horribly unbothered by the whole thing. His gaze had already turned back to his StarkPad. “Nobody knows exactly what he does. Classified. But our best guess is that he helps Mr. Stark with his tech.”

A stunned silence followed. Ned licked his lips. Frank went back to reading his article as if the conversation had never occurred.

Eventually, of course, the silence was too much for Cindy to take.

“Is it true that Mr. Stark was about to sell the Tower?” she tried to guide the conversation in another direction. She was, apparently, done talking about Parker – which didn’t sit right with Flash at all. He needn’t have worried, though. Cindy’s plan backfired hopelessly. How could it not? Everything about the day had been a huge bust.

“It is,” Frank said, his eyes never leaving the screen. He was only half paying attention to the conversation, while his other half was focused on the science in front of him. That he could understand the article with only half of his mind focused on it told Flash a lot about his skill.

He was impressed.

“Why didn’t he sell?” Cindy fired off her next question. As if she hadn’t noticed that talking wasn’t really high on Frank’s to-do list. Or listening to anyone else talk. Or even _being_ there.

That was Cindy for you.

Frank sighed for the umpteenth time. It was a sharp intake and release of breath this time, bordering on angry. He looked up again, his eyes narrowed and irritated. Flash would have let him be by now. Cindy wouldn’t.

“Why would I know that?” Frank muttered, leaning back in his chair exasperatedly. “I’m not him, am I? I can only tell you what the newspapers say. Something about interests …” He trailed off, tilting his head and studying Cindy. It seemed as if something had occurred to him. Something he hadn’t thought of before. A smile played on his lips as he leaned forward conspiratorially.

“You wanna know what I think, though?”

She nodded fervently.

“I think he did it for the kid. Parker.”

Now that was a tad too much for Flash. See, he could believe the internship somehow. He’d gone and tried really hard to believe the _Mr.-Stark’s-personal-intern_ idea, too.

But this?

Hey, he was only human.

“Parker?” he said, loud enough to startle more than half of the people in the room. Louder than anyone had said anything since they’d entered Stark Tower.

Frank frowned at him. Completely serious, at least on the outside. “Yeah, young? Brought you in here and dumped you on me? We’ve been talking about him for the past three minutes? Ring a bell?”

Flash did not have the capacity to be insulted, much less to react to the sarcasm or the clear challenge in Frank’s voice. Instead, he just said, “What about him?”

“I mean, the kid _loves_ this place,” Frank said, shrugging again.

_Shrugging._

Okay.

Flash pinched himself for the second time that day. And then he went and did it again, just in case the first two tries had been a fluke.

It still _hurt._

How the hell was that even possible?

Why was a random intern at Stark Industries telling him that _Puny Parker_ had had any say in what happened to Stark Tower? Not just that. No, no. Not even Puny, per se. Rather, his mere  _opinion_ had played a role in the future of the Tower. Which was worse.

The only time Flash could remember someone asking for his opinion and acting on it was with his Granddad. As in, _what ice cream do you want?_ And when Flash had answered that he wanted chocolate, his Granddad had bought chocolate. Allowed him to eat the whole tub, too. His Dad, after posing the same question and receiving the same answer, had pointedly thrown a pack of vanilla popsicles into the trolley.

His Mom had never asked his opinion at all. Not that he could remember.

And then little Penis comes along, _loving_ Stark Tower like the rest of the world, and the great Tony Stark just goes and lets that interfere with his plans.

I mean, _excuse me_?

And then there was the shrug. As if it was no big deal. As if this was an everyday occurrence. Puny _loving_ a whole tower and Tony Stark keeping it for his sake.

Were they all _mad_?

Flash stood abruptly, only just preventing his chair from crashing to the floor. He walked away, sitting down on the same spot he’d abandoned a few minutes earlier. He watched his schoolmates, who had gone quiet, and Frank, who had gone back to his article. The intern’s posture seemed more final this time. He was not going to answer any more questions and even Cindy seemed to catch on.

Flash didn’t care about familiar faces anymore. Even though it took a long, long time for his schoolmates to join him, he didn’t move from his spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the great comments! You guys are the best! Still love you. ;)
> 
> Also, I'm excited for the next chapter! Peter and Tony make an appearance! Yayy! :D


	4. Anything to Make the Kids Happy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great Tony Stark tries to keep the students' minds off the bad things for a while. Flash appreciates it. A lot.

At some point, a commotion started in one corner of the room. People pulling out their phones, murmuring furiously. Pressing buttons. _Talking,_ louder and louder. And not to each other.

Flash fished out his own phone with a shaking hand. (He was _way_ past denying that. So what?) Turned it on. It worked. A good sign if there had ever been one. He dialed his Mom’s number and pressed the device to his ear.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

“Hey, Sweetie!” his Mom called, her voice sounding a little tight around the edges. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Flash said quietly. “What about you and Dad?”

“We’re okay, too. Where are you? How are you getting home?”

“I’m … Well, that’s a long story. But I’ll walk.”

“I don’t want you out in the streets alone after this …”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Promise.” He hung up before another word could follow. He didn’t need her right now. Cruel, he knew, but true.

Still, a boulder rolled off his shoulders as he buried his phone deep in his sweater. It was so light now. It rested like a feather in his pocket. He consciously let himself enjoy the sensation, feeling the _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart slow and slow until it wasn’t unpleasant any longer. Only then did he shift his attention away from himself. By the looks of it, the other fifty individuals in the room were getting similar news. There were relieved faces all around him, happy faces, barked laughter, exclamations that let tension bleed out into the world.

A man in the far back was crying. Flash didn’t want to guess if the tears were happy or sad.

Then they waited around some more. People were getting bolder now. Restless. They stood up, wanted to leave the room. Frank had to put his StarkPad aside, had to explain to them that they needed to stay in the room until the danger was officially over. Some didn’t care. A man with a woman at his side strode right up to the door, trying to get out, but it was locked and impenetrable.

Flash hoped that they got to leave soon. If not, he feared something could break out, turning their little haven into the heart of something _new._

Tony Stark walking into the room was definitely a game changer.

Now, Flash had imagined countless times how it would be to meet his hero in the flesh. _This_ was not it. It was cool, sure, but there were so many other emotions weighing him down that he couldn’t really focus on the _cool_ part of it. All he could do was sit there and stare at the engineer, feeling a weird sense of calm. He didn’t even have the energy to move.

It wasn’t like that for the others, apparently. Ned jumped to his feet, Michelle right behind him. Muttered conversations flared to life across the room and gained in volume as more and more people realized who had joined them.

Frank stood up.

“Mr. Stark. How’d it go?”

Stark sighed. “Taken care of,” he said in a tired tone. He expanded his attention to all the people in the room, opening his arms. “It’s safe for all of you to go now.”

Frank struggled to get the horde of relieved strangers under control. He tried to calm them down, giving orders and telling them to follow him, which did little to help. Fighting against the raging emotions of so many people was like fighting against nothing short of a wild river. Frank seemed to realize this too, because in a matter of seconds he had given up and simply joined everyone else in their endeavors. They spilled out of the room and into the hallway, leaving only four of the cheerleaders, Abe, Cindy, Ned, Michelle and their two teachers behind.

And him. Flash had no idea why he was sticking around, but something kept him from storming through the door like everyone else.

Once they were left alone, Stark’s shoulders sagged. He seemed older from one second to the next. If he’d been tired before, he was downright drawn now.

“Where’s Peter?” Ned asked in a pinched voice and Flash realized that everyone who had stayed behind had done so because they were worried about the nerd. He also realized, with a pinch of curiosity and frustration alike, that he included himself in that idea.

“He’s … okay,” Stark said slowly, sounding beat. Looking beat, too. Flash had never seen him like that. He supposed the engineer pulled himself together whenever he had to walk in front of a camera. Or an audience.

“So where is he?” That was Michelle and if her voice was a little shaken, nobody commented.

Stark sighed deeply. Then he shrugged. “You know what? You might as well go see him. Before you stay here all night trying to find him.”

Ned’s eyes lit up and even Michelle looked excited. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the boy said immediately, clasping his hands in a prayer-like gesture. “Thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stark grumbled as he led them all out of the room and down a few hallways. He turned corners and stopped in front of a half-opened glass door that led to a private room equipped with a bed, a few machines and a Doctor Banner.

Flash’s breath got stuck in his throat.

Peter was in the bed, his aunt fussing over him. Flash had talked to her once, briefly, but he didn’t remember her being this _hot_. Parker was connected to a machine – a heart monitor, most likely – and he looked profoundly unhappy. A few steps away stood Doctor Banner in his human form (thank God), squinting at the patient, then back at a chart in his hands. A woman was busy with some more charts in the corner of the room, wearing a white coat and the distinct air of a doctor.

Peter himself had a sling wrapped around his left arm. He looked a little worse for wear, but he was alive and talking, which seemed to relieve a little of the weight on everyone’s chests.

(Even Flash’s, though he would go a few rounds with the weird fire-breathing airplane himself before he admitted that to anyone.)

They hadn’t noticed the group of nosy kids peeking into the room yet.

“… already _told_ you,” Peter was just saying, trying hard to get the blankets off of himself. He looked at no one in particular, but it was clear that he was talking to the doctor. “I’m –“

“Fine,” Doctor Banner was quick to finish, looking a little exasperated. “I know. I know that about you by now.”

“What’s that supposed to –“

“Hey, kid,” Stark said, apparently not one to eavesdrop. Or maybe not one to do it when there were witnesses around. He pushed the door open fully, stepping into the room and to Parker’s bed. Ned and Michelle followed while the rest of the students crowded around the door.

“Hey, Mister Stark,” Peter said, looking up at the man with a smile. His voice was raspy. He greeted his two best friends with a nod to each, turning right back to his mentor. “I was just telling Mister Banner that I was fine.”

The scientist rolled his eyes. “How resourceful,” he muttered. Then sighed, returning Stark’s inquiring gaze. “But this time, he does have a point. Dislocated shoulder, a few bruises. That’s it. A good night’s sleep and he’ll be good as new.”

Flash was pretty sure that it took a little more than one night for a dislocated shoulder to heal, but whatever.

“That’s great!” Stark said, clapping his hands and smiling brightly. A few years fell right off his face. Ned and Michelle appeared pleased, too. Ned went right into one of his rambles, while Michelle adopted some of her infamous carelessness.

And, just like that, normalcy was reinstated. Kind of.

They were still in _Stark Tower._

Standing next to _Tony Stark._ And _Bruce Banner._

Giddy and elated from relief and a lack of adrenaline that had prompted a vicious headache behind Flash’s eyes.

Survivors of a fiery attack.

There was only so much normalcy a situation like that could handle.

Also, Flash’s heart had melted a little, and now he could feel it start to dance around in his chest. He was, after all, standing next to _Tony Stark._

 _And_ Bruce Banner.

Speaking of.

Tony gestured through the open door to the group standing outside. “There are more people here to see you,” he told Peter. The boy was already trying to get out of bed. Again. May was by his side in an instant, sharing a final look with Doctor Banner and waiting for his curt nod before unhooking her nephew from the heart monitor. Then, she threw back the blanket for him and stood close, a hand hovering in the air as if to catch him if he were to fall.

Flash remembered a chair, a classroom, one of his hands hovering above the desk to catch _him_ if he fell. Before this whole shit show had started. It felt like a lifetime ago – though, as he watched Stark from only two meters away, he had to admit it hadn’t turned out all that bad.

Something weird pulled at his attention.

Peter never stumbled, never needed any help as he climbed out of bed and walked stiffly to the door, but May’s hand wasn’t the only one keeping him safe. Stark’s whole body seemed focused on the boy and even though he was standing a little farther off, his muscles were rigid and ready to jump in and swoop Parker up if the situation called for it.

It didn’t and Flash tried to blink away the pictures of his father passed out on the couch when a little Flash learned to ride a bike and to swim and to skate. There had never been any hands to hover around him but his own. His Granddad’s maybe, but that had been a long time ago and Flash had already forgotten him a little, which hurt now that he thought about it.

It just …

Sometimes it wasn’t really fair, is all.

Parker had now made his way to them and smiled at the cheerleaders, Cindy, Abe. They smiled back. Figures. He was a nice enough guy that liked to help and people were generally drawn to that. Which still didn't mean that he wasn’t a loser with only two friends and a weird obsession with Legos.

It only meant that when shit got real, there were people there waiting on the other side of Peter’s glass door just to make sure he was okay.

His eyes settled on Flash and he frowned a little. But then Stark was there, laying a hand on Parker’s shoulder, and all the creases smoothed over in a second. Parker leaned into the touch and Flash got so caught up in it that it took him a few moments to realize that Stark’s attention was on them.

“How are all of you getting home?”

Cindy went first, of course. Her eyes were glued to her phone, dashing furiously left and right. “I live really close to here and my parents are already downstairs waiting for me. They’re freaking out, I should kinda get going …”

“Anyone else have their parents downstairs?”

Two cheerleaders lifted their hands. Stark nodded and told Bruce Banner to take the three teenagers down to the lobby. He asked the scientist to wait with the kids until they were reunited with their families. Strange. Flash hadn’t expected Stark to be this insightful. Or this caring.

And then there were eight. Plus Parker, Stark, May, and the doctor in the corner. Mr. Harrington and Mrs. Warren insisted on staying with them until the last of the kids were on their way home.

Apparently, traffic had been shut down completely for the day. It was hard to get from point A to point B under the circumstances, which was why most people were stuck wherever they had sought shelter. Abe, Ned, Michelle, and the two remaining cheerleaders all had people on their way, but it would take a while.

Stark sighed.

Then pulled himself together with what looked to be no effort at all.

“Here’s how I see this,” he finally said in that light, conversational tone of his as he guided Parker out of the room, a hand still on his shoulder. The group of teenagers split like the Red Sea and who could blame them? Few people had ever stood in Iron Man’s way and fewer were alive today to tell the tale. This was definitely a case of _better safe than sorry._

They closed the gap immediately behind the man, though, listening carefully so as not to miss anything.

“We could all wait in the lobby till we’re old and bold.” He looked at them, his eyes piercing. Flash saw a weight in them, a gravity pulling them down, but Stark kept his voice intentionally upbeat. This was his camera face. And it was all for them. To make them feel better. Weirdly, Flash found it was already working on him. _“Or …”_

Parker groaned. “Oh, no. I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered.

Stark was not deterred. He simply turned to his intern with a huge smile on his face. “Since you’re so fine and everything and your friends waited this long to see you … we could show them around a little. Whaddaya say?”

See, Flash wasn’t stupid. He knew what Stark was trying to do and he appreciated the sentiment. When the engineer’s eyes turned on them again, though, it was more than just appreciation he felt. The adrenalin had slowly dripped away. The relief was still there, lingering in his muscles, but it had started to ebb away as well, if slightly. Now there was room for something else.

Excitement.

For the first time in what felt like forever.

And Flash felt himself grin. _Really_ grin like a child on Christmas. Everything was fine. He had survived. His family was okay. Nothing left to worry about.

And Stark was offering them a tour.

Yeah, he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. Sue him.

Quiet. It was too quiet for Flash to hear his own thoughts. Parker didn’t say anything either, only sighing and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Probably wondering how appropriate this was.

Flash was wondering that, too. But when he looked around, taking in the drained yet eager faces of his schoolmates, he couldn’t help but reason that whatever made them feel better, however marginally, simply _had_ to be appropriate.

Peter was still rubbing his eyes and Stark’s expression softened instantly. “But if you’re not up for it …”

“No, no,” Peter said, looking tiredly up at the man. “No, Mr. Stark, it's fine. Really, it's ... it's great.”

Stark let his gaze linger on the boy a little longer before he turned around, excitement burning in his eyes. Flash had a hard time reminding himself that it might not all be real. The engineer addressed every one of them, his expression open. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your families, though, so if you’re not feeling like it …”

They were a science school faced with a choice: doing nothing or doing something _really_ interesting to pass the time until they could finally go home. If you’ve come this far in Midtown High, doing nothing wasn’t really in your DNA. At least, not anymore. Abe was the only one to tell the engineer in a quiet voice that he would prefer to go downstairs. Mrs. Warren agreed and accompanied the boy into an elevator.

Flash watched Abe go, hearing rather than seeing Mr. Harrington walk up to Stark and mutter a quiet thank you. Stark smiled and clapped a hand on the teacher’s shoulder. “Anything to make the kids happy.” Then he added, in a quieter voice, “They deserve it.”

Right. They _did_ deserve it, didn’t they?

As they started walking down the hallway, Stark faced them again. A huge smile split his face almost in two. It was captivating. “I wish it could have been under better circumstances, but this is still exciting, right?”

Trying to keep morale high. Because that’s what you do. Well, Flash didn’t have to be told twice.

Stark received a few half-hearted hums in response, which was more than enough for him. He walked on enthusiastically, draping an arm over Peter’s shoulders. Ned slipped to Parker’s right side, Michelle right next to him.

And just like that, they were on a _tour of Stark Industries._ Flash could barely believe it. Surreal, yes. Weird and inexplicable? Hell, yeah. But it did something to the part of Flash that had kind of frozen in the past hours. Which was probably exactly what Stark had been aiming for.

“Man, it’s been years since I’ve personally given one of these,” the engineer said as he ushered everyone into an elevator and told the lady in the ceiling to take them to the first floor. He kept his voice chipper and Flash noticed its effect – his schoolmates’ eyes were starting to gleam much like his own. Once again, Stark’s charisma proved irresistible. “Actually, it’s been all my life since I’ve given one of these. You should count yourselves lucky.”

As the elevator hummed underneath them, taking them lower and lower, Peter looked anything but lucky. Which made Flash even more excited. How could it not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for reading and for the great comments!


	5. A Lucky Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really cool to see SI like this. Flash is ecstatic. Or, he would be, if he hadn't noticed a few specific things. Like, how Puny and Stark interact. Not that it's any of his business ... but, you know. This is hardly professional.

They walked around the Avengers Exhibit and asked Stark _a lot_ of questions. Because, once they started talking, it was hard to stop.

He answered almost all of them. Except for any queries concerning the day’s events. “Watch the news,” was the only reply he gave to those, nipping their curiosity in the bud.

Flash was weirdly okay with it.

“Did you really want to sell the Tower?” Ella, one of the cheerleaders, piped up at some point and Flash rolled his eyes. _Come on,_ he thought, annoyed. _Drop it already._

But Stark suspected nothing. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Our shareholders weren’t happy and then our buyers didn’t want to pay as much as they’d promised … it was a bloody mess. Pepper … Miss Potts is still trying to clean it all up.” But the quick glance Stark shot Parker did not go unnoticed by Flash.

He sighed and looked away.

After about twenty minutes of strolling around the exhibit (and Ned leaving with a handshake and a quick wave), Stark took them to some labs. They were interesting and all, but nothing Flash hadn’t seen before. He’d been by his father’s workplace a few times and had gotten to admire his fair share of lab coats, vials, machines. Nothing out of the ordinary for him.

In the middle of an explanation, Ella had to leave, too.

Then, Stark’s eyes got that special glint once more. “Tell you what,” he said, ignoring another raised hand that was begging for his attention. “How about Peter shows you his lab?”

Parker looked up sharply at that. Bruises had formed on his face, outlining the contours of his cheeks. He looked a little sick, a little tired, but after a fight with hell, such things were to be expected, Flash supposed. Not that he wasn’t still curious how _exactly_ his nerdy classmate had gotten all the injuries.

(The woman on Peter’s shoulders and the backpack and the _strength_ tingled for his attention again, but he pushed it away. Because, _no_.)

Parker’s innocent eyes bored into Stark’s. “I _can’t,_ Mr. Stark,” he said pointedly, his jaw twitching as he urged his mentor to drop it.

No such luck for him, apparently.

“Why not?” asked the engineer, acting clueless. Flash could tell it was only a mask, though.

Parker sighed. “There are … _classified things_ in there.”

Stark waved off lightly. “Oh, these are your friends. I think you can show them what you’re working on. Don’t you?”

There was nothing left for Parker to reply, because you didn’t say _no_ to Tony Stark. So up and up they went, the anticipation growing until it was quite palpable in the air around them. Flash felt a little dizzy as he stepped out of the elevator again, entering a huge room that stretched on as far as the eye could see.

Parker’s lab – if that was, in fact, where they had ended up – took up one whole floor of Stark Tower. It was enormous and already upon a single glance, Flash knew he would have to take back _everything_ he had ever said or thought about labs before.

This was so, so far away from _ordinary_ that Flash didn’t know if it was even still in the same realm.

Half of the wall to their right was covered with Captain America’s shields – Flash could only guess that they were prototypes, but what did he really know? To their left, a part of the room was cut off from the rest by a long glass wall. Webbing that looked suspiciously like Spider-Man’s hung off of it in tufts. That was just the tip of the iceberg, though. There were arrows. Bows. Daggers. Robots. Vials with multicolored liquids in them.

Something that looked like an Iron Man suit.

More that Flash couldn’t see or make out.

They stood in silence, which they were used to by then, but this time, it was an electric silence buzzing with questions.

Peter took one look at all of them and groaned. He walked lazily over to a sofa that appeared to be relatively comfortable but probably wasn’t, plopping down onto the cushions and closing his eyes. “Wake me up when it’s over,” he muttered.

Stark chuckled. “I thought you and your aunt would want to come with me to the Compound? Steve’s making pasta."

Peter was back on his feet before anyone knew what was happening. His tired eyes were comically wide, betraying all of his emotions. Flash snuck a glance at the engineer, though, letting Peter’s ramblings fade into the background.

Stark’s face had adopted an expression that had nothing to do with his hard eyes or tight jaw. Something Flash had not seen him wear ever before, but it fit naturally into the corners of his eyes, the flow of his lips.

If he hadn’t known any better, Flash would have thought that …

You know.

That Peter was a little more than an intern.

Just saying.

After a few more questions and a few more hesitant answers – this time from their favorite nerd –, they were all shepherded back into the elevator. They stopped halfway down to the first floor and when the door opened, it revealed a flustered Pepper Potts.

Flash would have pinched himself _again_ but he’d established by then that his pain receptors had to be malfunctioning.

The woman stormed inside, wrapping her arms around Tony curtly before she sought out a certain boy. Her eyes lingered on Peter, roaming up and down, then she pressed him to her chest and whispered, “I rushed here as soon as I heard. Thank God you’re all alright.”

Tony Stark huffed and rolled his eyes while the door of the elevator slid closed once more. “Next time, Miss Potts, do not run _towards_ the danger.”

“Has anyone ever told you how much of a hypocrite you are?” she said sternly, unwinding her arms from around Peter and slapping the engineer’s shoulder playfully.

Peter lifted his hand. “Right here.”

Flash stared, as did the cheerleader – Rachel – and Mr. Harrington. But Tony Stark did not explode. He only chuckled, while May rolled her eyes. “ _You_ don’t get to talk,” she said.

Stark nodded, agreeing with the woman. “Yeah, who’s the one who got hurt today?”

“Touché,” Peter mumbled and looked away.

“So what’s he still doing up, Tony?” Pepper Potts turned her attention back to her fiancée, but her eyes glanced over to Parker every once in a while. Her face was disgruntled. “He looks _exhausted._ ”

“ _He_ ’s right here,” Peter muttered, but Stark rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hush,” he said, “the adults are talking.”

Which didn’t sit right with Parker, of course, but what could he do?

The door dinged open and they started filing out. “He wanted to show the Tower to his classmates,” Flash heard Stark say as he followed Rachel out of the elevator.

“Uh-huh,” Miss Potts returned sarcastically, sounding very unimpressed. “ _He_ wanted to do it?”

When Flash turned back around, she had draped an arm around Peter in a similar gesture to what Mr. Stark had done before. She dipped her head quickly, placing a kiss on the crown of Parker’s head.

Flash didn’t think he would be surprised ever again. Not after this day.

“Of course _he_ wanted to do it,” Stark ranted on, acting as if this situation was completely normal. The more that Flash thought about it, the more he believed that maybe, it was.

They stormed out of the building and into a beaten, stinky street. The remaining cheerleader – Rachel – ran up to who Flash suspected was her mother. Michelle walked over to a car. Now it was just Flash and Mr. Harrington, who stood next to him and looked down at him worriedly.

Flash didn’t return his gaze. He wasn’t about to explain to his _teacher,_ of all people, why nobody was coming for him. Instead, he decided to check in with his parents. Buy himself some time. His Mom picked up again.

“Hey, Honey, are you on your way? Where can we pick you up?”

Frankly, he didn’t need his parents to pick him up. He hadn’t needed them for simple things like that in a long time. He told his Mom as much and hung up on her again, hoping that Mr. Harrington had heard the conversation and would let him walk home without further explanation. For once, he wasn’t trying to be rude. He just didn’t find his mother’s voice particularly calming, is all. Or his teacher’s stare, drilling a hole into the back of his aching head.

Much more calming was the image of Mr. Stark’s arm around Peter’s shoulders, guiding the boy to a black car and supporting him when he stumbled. The engineer looked anything but happy now. The excitement had vanished as soon as he had turned away from Flash and his schoolmates. As soon as they weren’t the man’s responsibility anymore. Now his only focus was a certain nerdy high schooler.

Peter’s legs didn’t seem to work right anymore, so in the end, Stark swept the boy clear off his feet and cradled him gently to his chest. May stood by, concerned, brushing hair off Peter’s face. Miss Potts stood to the other side, seeming just as worried.

A driver stepped out of the black car and came up to the little group. His uncaring features morphed into something sharper, sadder, and he placed a hand on Parker’s form.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Flash heard the boy mumble over the small distance between them, and he saw the adults ignore him.

“Let’s get him home,” Tony said with a sigh and May, Miss Potts and the driver all agreed. They vanished in the car and drove away.

Flash did not move.

He watched the spot he had last seen them for a long, long while.

Feeling something in his chest constrict and ache.

Feeling a hole. The absence of something big and important.

As he pulled his gaze away from the dark street and steeled himself for the conversation with Mr. Harrington, he found himself wishing to be invited to the Compound, too.

To have something like that.

Because he knew that where he was going, he was not going to get it. He never had.

Peter was one lucky guy.

And it wasn’t because he got to play around with tech far above any other high schooler’s clearance.

(Or because he got to save people, if what Flash suspected was even halfway true. But, whatever. He might as well have been dead wrong about that one. Probably. Most certainly.)

It was because of Stark’s _“Let’s get him home.”_ As if that meant something.

No, not something.

Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you guys! Okay, so I know that these last two chapters may be a little ... I don't know, weird? But this is how the idea started out and I wanted to stay true to what was in my head.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for bearing with me! This was FUN. I loved all of your support. The kudos, the comments ... seriously, stuff like that just makes my day.
> 
> Have a nice weekend! :D


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